


Cozy

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: Swingtown
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Post-Series, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5020171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just have to do what's necessary when your friends need you.  Even if it may inconvenience you, you just have to suck it up and do it.  At least, that's the rule I've always lived by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cozy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellacj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellacj/gifts).



> Thank you to my beta.
> 
> More to come soon...

Sometimes you just have to do what's necessary when your friends need you. Even if it may inconvenience you, you just have to suck it up and do it. At least, that's the rule I've always lived by.

***

"Janet, can you come over?"

Squinting blearily at the alarm clock -- Who calls at quarter after three in the morning on a Sunday? -- I try to get my brain in gear enough to form coherent sentences. "Who ziss?"

There's a muffled sound on the other end of the line, almost like a sob trapped behind a hand, and I'm suddenly awake before the question is repeated. The pieces are clicking together even before she starts trying to explain herself.

"Trina? Are you all right?" I ask, already reaching for my robe and slippers. "What happened? Is the baby okay?"

"I don't know. It's not moving much and--" She sniffles before continuing. "I know it's late, but could you please come over? Or at least stay on the phone with me for a while?"

"Give me long enough to get dressed and make sure the driveway's shoveled enough to get over there. Do you need me to bring you anything while I'm on my way?"

"Don't put yourself in danger on the roads, okay? I'd rather sit on the phone with you than feel guilty that I could cause you to get into an accident or something."

"You let me worry about it. My car's got chains and I heard the sanders come by before I went to bed. Unless we've had a bunch more snow fall in the last few hours, the roads should be fine."

"Okay. Thank you, Janet."

"I'll see you soon. You just put your feet up and relax. The spare key's still in the same place, right?"

"Yes, it is. Um, I'm in the living room anyway. I don't want to be in my bed right now."

***

It ended up taking nearly half an hour to shovel out the end of the driveway, thanks to the plows creating a three-foot wall there. If Rick wasn't with his father this weekend, I'd have had him get up and help me. Thankfully, the roads themselves are in good enough shape for me to cross town to get to Trina's house in another twenty minutes. The snow is still falling in big, fat flakes that will weigh heavily on the ground, but they won't make it too slick to travel.

Pulling into the driveway, I can see that someone's kept up on shoveling it out while Tom's been working this week. A glance across the street shows a light on in Bruce's bedroom. The neighborly part of me want to go say hello, but this isn't the time or place. I'm not here for him, I'm here for Trina. The spare key ends up being a moot point because Trina is standing in the opened front door as I make my way up the walk.

"Get yourself inside, young lady," I lightly admonish with a smile. "You'll catch yourself a death of a cold and babies with runny noses in your womb leave a disgusting mess. Especially if you're having a boy. And they don't get any better once they're outside, either."

She laughs at that and steps back into the warmth of her house, closing the door behind me. I set down the bag of supplies I brought with me to remove coat and boots. Glancing down, I see a different pair of slippers by the front door than Tom's.

"Those are yours," Trina says softly. "Or have you forgotten the Christmas gift already?"

"Not exactly." I slip into them, already grateful for their warmth. I need to get new boots apparently, as mine aren't very good at conserving heat. "I just wasn't thinking about them. Now, you get yourself comfortable on the couch while I go make us something special."

"Janet, you didn't--"

"I know I didn't," I cut in smoothly. "I _wanted_ to. You needed me and so I'm here. It's colder than a witch's bottom out there and this will keep us nice and cozy."

She laughs at that, but the merriment doesn't quite make it to her eyes. "Tom's been trying to influence your vocabulary again, I see."

"Oh, he tries, but he should know better by know that he won't succeed."

She guides me to the kitchen, stopping to grab the afghan from the couch on the way, then settles on a stool at the island. I start pulling items from the bag, then reach for a sauce pan to start mixing things together. First the cider, then the cinnamon sticks and cloves, and finally I slice up an orange thinly to add in. Putting the pan on the stove, I start the burner to warm it up.

"That should have a good shot of alcohol in it," she says wistfully, a hand moving to rub at her rounded stomach. "But I'm not allowed any of that for at least another two months. If I choose to breastfeed, it'll be even longer."

***

"Would you like to talk about what got you so upset that you had to call me so early?" I finally ask, once we're settled on the couch and facing one another.

Trina sips at her cider, then stares into the mug for a long moment or two. "Tom was supposed to be home this morning," she finally says as she sets it aside on the coffee table. "Well, _yesterday_ morning, I guess, given the time now. He was doing a run from Vancouver as a favor for a friend and got snowed in. He called and said he'd let me know if they could make it home at all. Then he called again this afternoon and said it looked like they'd make a later flight home."

"Were they snowed in again?"

"No," she says with a derisive snort. "One of my old friends from the airline called about ten and said that they were snowed _out_ of Chicago and would be redirected to Kansas City, of all places, until the storms blow out over Lake Michigan and peter out."

"I'm sorry, Trina," I say, reaching across to gently rub her calf. "I know how much you want him home lately. I was the same way when I got into my last trimester. Rick started kicking and moving around more, and I was constantly worried that he'd hurt himself in the process. I didn't care that he was hurting me, he was cramped in a small space. But when he'd stop moving at all, I would get so worried that something was wrong. Roger was taking me to the hospital all the time in those last three months, between the lack of movement scares, the false labor, and finally the actual labor. In fact, he didn't even believe me when I was in labor until my water broke and ruined his golf shoes."

That gets her to laugh, and I join her in the moment. She picks up her cider again and takes a long drink, humming in appreciation when she's done.

"I don't know what you do to make your mulled cider taste so good, Janet, but you have _got_ to make it more often."

"Or I could just teach you how to do it, Trina. It's quite easy and you're no slouch in the kitchen yourself."

She nods slowly, the smile fading again as she rubs her stomach. "We were supposed to have another ultrasound today."

"Is anything wrong with the baby?"

She shakes her head, but doesn't speak for a bit. Her hands move almost restlessly over her stomach, as if she's trying to engulf it all in the palms of her hands. Without thought, I set my own mug down and lean over to smooth my hands over her belly gently. For several moments, we just continue this until I feel a tear splash onto my fingers.

"Trina?"

"Just hold me?" she whispers, gaze still trained downward, but I can see her fight against -- and lose to -- a yawn.

"Of course," I reply and stand up, offering her a hand. When she gives me a confused look, I just smile. "You and your baby need rest, Trina, and there's not enough room on this couch for both of us to be comfortable. I'll come hold you while you sleep. That way you're not alone and scared."

She takes my offer of help, letting me pull her to her feet. We leave our mugs where they are, and I make a mental note to clean up once we've woken up. Maybe I'll even make her a nice omelet for breakfast. She leads me to her bedroom, and a part of me feels weird to be there without Tom around. Or even _with_ Tom around. But this is my friend and she needs me right now.

"I have an extra nightgown if you'd like," she says as she pulls off her sweatshirt to reveal one of Tom's undershirts.

"No, I'm good." I pull off my own sweatshirt to reveal similar clothing. "I'm more about warmth and comfort in the winter than anything else."

We slip under the covers at the same time and I realize I'm on Tom's side when his cologne wafts up from the pillow. Pushing that information aside, I let Trina settle on her left side, facing me with one hand on her stomach. I shift closer, offering the option of resting her head on my chest. She moves closer and I feel an odd sort of comfort from the bulk of her belly against my side.

And then we both feel it. Sharp enough to make her gasp in surprise. It's a strange sensation to feel that little foot against my side, but from the outside rather than the inside. It makes me laugh and lightly tap the spot.

"Hey in there," I say with mock sternness. "You can't just go around kicking people when they're being nice to your mommy. That's not polite." Then the baby kicks again. "I see Auntie Janet is going to have to work on your manners when you're born."

Trina laughs at that, no hint of her melancholy in the sound. "Good luck with that. I'm _still_ trying to get Tom fully trained on his manners. This baby seems to take after him."

She sighs again, clearly lost in thought as she rubs her stomach. I lean over to kiss her forehead, feeling on some base level that I need to do it. It's just right to comfort her when she's upset, but she clearly has other things in mind. Her head shifts up at the same time as I lean in, causing my lips to meet hers. For a moment, I stiffen, unsure of what to do, and then she gently nibbles at my bottom lip and my eyes slowly close at the sensation. I can feel her smile as her tongue traces my lip, and it feels better than I expected. 

Despite what they've teased me about, I'm not as much of a prude as they s-- My god, how is she doing that? My gasp gives her the opportunity to slip her tongue into my mouth and then she moans. No, wait! That moan came from me.

And then the baby kicks again, harder this time, hard enough to make her gasp and pull back. I blink in confusion, then see the remorse swimming in her eyes. Without hesitation, the moment I know she and the baby are okay, I pull her in for another gentle kiss.

This is definitely not what I was expecting when I came to comfort my friend, but if this is what will get her through the night until her husband comes home, who am I to deny her?


End file.
